


Confessions and Miscommunication

by PocketSwordOfDamocles



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Royai Week 2015, Someone Help Them, Telephone, being a teenager is awkward but damn these two need to STOP, it's not a real ship unless they tease and sass and sorta-blackmail each other, roy's "sisters" try to embarrass the crap outta him whenever possible, so cute so big, there's a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketSwordOfDamocles/pseuds/PocketSwordOfDamocles
Summary: Riza's father is sick, so she calls Roy to let him know...and teen awkwardness and sass takes over?So freaking sorry for any stupid mistakes!Obviously, I don't own FMA/FMA:B. This is fanfiction, blah, blah - on to the story.





	

The silence was nearly constant when Roy wasn’t over.

But not even the usual, muffled noise of a radio from down the hall could be heard today, due to Riza’s father suddenly falling ill. He had fought her on taking it easy, like always, saying she worried too much and that he was fine, though he clearly had the symptoms of the common cold. She had argued if he would take better care of himself, she wouldn’t have to worry before pushing him into his room with a large glass of water and ordering him to sleep until the stew was done.

He was snoring two minutes later. That, or there was a bear in the room.

Riza took her time getting the ingredients together, cleaning, cutting, and tossing them into a boiling pot of water, as if those wasteful minutes would make her father better, faster. Childish she knew, but she also knew that sleep was as vital as adequate food and water for getting over a cold.

She grew bored soon after covering the pot with a lid to cook, her task on stand-by until having to stir it again, and decided to inform Roy on her father’s current situation. Climbing onto and sitting on the kitchen countertop, Riza pulled the rotary telephone to her side. Her heels gently kicked against the cabinet’s door beneath her as she carefully dialed the number she’d memorized long ago, hypnotized by the slowly rotating dial.

 _Ring_.

She blew a lock of hair out of her eyes.

 _Ring_.

Her index finger toyed with phone cord.

 _Ring_ –

“Yeah, hello?”

It was Madame Christmas. Riza had hoped one of the hostesses would answer since it was still early evening.

She sat up straighter. “Yes, Madame Christmas? Um, this is Riza Hawkeye – I, uh – I’m Roy’s friend. Can I – uh…is he there?” Cringing with embarrassment, Riza smacked her forehead with her palm, briefly pulling the phone away, and grumbling, “ _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.”

The woman slowly breathed out. “Yeah, he’s here somewhere.”

Riza slumped with a sigh, wondering why she had to sound like an idiot when talking to Roy’s foster mother, and massaged her temple. “May I speak with him, please?”

Distantly, “ _Hey_ , _boy, your little girlfriend is on the phone_!” came through the phone, soon followed by oohing from the hostesses.

She was _not_ his girlfriend, she wanted to protest. They were _just_ _friends_. How difficult was that to understand? Riza sighed, knowing it was no use arguing the details when the girls get worked up.

In the time it took Roy to come to the phone, Riza noted that sky promised more snow and that Elizabeth, the neighborhood’s stray mutt and Riza’s “pet,” who was lounging under the kitchen table, needed a bath. Again. Riza wasn’t looking forward to that last part.

“Hello–” started Roy, and then pulled the phone away, yelling, “Yeah, yeah, I get it already! Don’t you ladies have work– OW!”

“Don’t yell in front of customers,” Madame Christmas ordered.

“That _hurt_!” complained Roy. “And you were just yelling a few minutes a– _OW_!”

“Don’t sass me, boy.”

Roy hissed through the pain as another voice chimed in with, “You shouldn’t keep a nice girl like her waiting, honey.” Sounds of agreement followed.

Riza blushed. The girls thought she was nice – they liked her! Sure, they were sweet to her whenever she called or visited, but Riza had thought it was obligated kindness for being Roy’s friend. To know it was genuine…her mood brightened.

“Oh! Um, hi. Sorry, Riza, I–” Roy said so fast, his words jumbled together. “Uh, hang on for a second, please.”

She nodded, though he couldn’t see her, and wondered if all of their telephone conversations were going to loosely follow this routine. “Sure.”

“Some privacy, please?” sounding as if he had turned the phone away again. Five heartbeats later, Roy brilliantly returned with, “Hi.”

“Hi,” replied Riza, equally brilliantly, her index finger continuing to play with phone cord. “Um, is this a bad time?

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because of – nevermind. Is your head okay?”

“I’ll live,” he grumbled. “Wait, how did you know she smacked my head?”

It was honestly a guess; it was that or twisting his ear. “Because you’re shorter than she is,” Riza reasoned bluntly.

Laughter filled her right ear, and she smiled, her chest warming at the knowledge that she had caused such a precious sound to come from him.

“So why did you call?” Roy questioned, getting himself under control.

It took Riza a few moments to recall her reason to contact him – other than to hear his voice and drive away her boredom, of course. But she wasn’t going to admit _that_ to anyone else other than herself and Elizabeth. “Oh yeah!” suddenly remembering. “Father caught a cold, so don’t come over for alchemy lessons for the next two or three days.” In truth, her father said one day, but Riza decided on her own to extent the time. He needed to fully recover before diving into his work again. “I’ll call you and tell you when he’s better.”

“Master’s sick? And _he agreed_ to be coddled for a few days?” Roy whistled. “Did Hell freeze over?”

“No, just Amestris and Drachma,” she retorted, glancing out the small kitchen window. It was lightly snowing, just as she predicted.

Roy snorted. “Maybe Drachma’s finally attacking us and bringing their blizzard-hell weather with them to keep their snowmen army from melting?”

Her hand pressed against her mouth to keep too much laughter from escaping.

“You’re forcing him to stay in bed, aren’t you?” The smile in his voice was obvious.

“Of course.” She glanced down the hall, eyes catching her father’s bedroom door. “It’s for his own good. He doesn’t take care of himself. And he is my father and I love him, so….”

“I know you do.” He hesitated. “You’re a good daughter, Riza,” and then teased, “a good, pig-headed, worrywart of a daughter.”

She playfully scoffed, hopping off the counter and taking the phone with her, gingerly pulling the cord along. “Honestly, you’ve been around him too much.” In eight small steps, she was at the stove, setting the phone’s base on the counter and stirring the stew with a ladle. “You call it worrying; I call it caring.”

How could she _not_ worry about him? He set fire to his shirt last week, and his left shoe the week before that. Teaching flame alchemy to a teenage boy had to have been the dumbest idea she’s ever heard.

Adjusting the phone to rest between her shoulder and cheek, Riza added, “Another thing,” while covering the stew again and grabbing the phone base. Turning from the stove, she tiptoed back to the other side of the kitchen, carefully walking along a crack in the floor as if it were a tightrope. “Father said that you better have read those books he leant you, or you’re going to get an earful.” The phone’s base found the countertop again, and Riza leaned against the wood for support, watching Elizabeth lazily crawl out from under the table and pace the house. “I have a feeling he’s going to quiz you on that material – so you better know it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Roy groaned. “At least I have a few extra days to study.”

“You’re not going to study, are you?”

He pondered his response. “ _Eh_ …we’ll see how the next few days ago.”

Riza shouted, “ _ROY_ –” then recalled her sleeping father down the hall and finished through tight lips, “– _Mustang_!”

Muffled laughter filtered through the phone’s receiver.

She rolled her eyes. “You little –”

Too late, Riza noticed a certain puddle on the floor, and Elizabeth’s shaggy, brown tail and backside disappearing behind a chair. The dog was larger than the furniture. She groaned, “ _Elizabeth_ , _no_.”

But she was already snatching an old dish rag from a drawer, her annoyance evaporating. It was next to impossible for her to get angry at the mutt. She was a stray, and Riza could tell she had a master once, an abusive one. Elizabeth would flinch and try to reduce her existence if anyone so much as tried to pet her. She was still young and sweet, but skittish half the time. Recently, the stray had warmed up a bit, but Riza still didn’t have the heart to discipline her – she’d been through enough. No, they would take this awkward owner-pet relationship slowly, as long as that overgrown, scared puppy knew what love was, that humans weren’t all bad, that’s all that mattered.

“Elizabeth? Wha – you let her into the house?”

“It’s freezing outside,” she explained, kneeling down, bringing the phone and rag with her.

“She smells.”

“How’d you know?”

“A stray smelling bad - what a stretch!” He sighed, “Your father’s gonna be mad…again.”

Phone between her cheek and shoulder, Riza dropped the rag over the mess. “Good thing he’s sick in bed, right? And no one’s going to tell him, _right_?”

“My silence doesn’t come cheap,” he prompted.

She arched an eyebrow, catching sight of Elizabeth poking her head around the chair. “ _Oh really_? If memory serves, _you_ helped me catch her, bathe her, feed her, name her, and sneak her into the house a few times. You’re in this as deep as I am, _Mr. Mustang_.”

He whistled, replying in a playful tone, “Well, _Miss Hawkeye_ , if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re blackmailing me.”

“ _Maybe_ …” Riza picked at her fingernails, dreading to touch the dog urine-soaked rag. Oh, how she longed for a mop to clean this mess up with. But, _no_ , a certain idjit just had to go and set the previous one on fire the other day, which hasn’t been replaced yet. That boy was all flames, no control.

“Alright,” he answered at length. “Come over and help me study. I’ll keep quiet.”

“I don’t think you fully understand how blackmailing works,” she countered.

It seemed she was very amusing to him today, because he was laughing again. She didn’t know what she had said to warrant those responses, but she wasn’t going to question it.

In her mind, Riza pictured Roy so clearly – his smile, his eyes, where he was sitting at the bar, the way his body shook and his hand failed to smother the laugh. It was such a pleasantly stark contrast to her current situation, and her only happy thought as her fingers tugged at the corner of the saturated rag.

“Hey, Riza Hawkeye?”

She lifted the old cloth, eyeing it, wondering if it was going to drip during the short walk to the trash can outside. No way was she going to be using this again. “Hmm?”

His tone turned serious, to a whisper. “I love you.”

The rag dropped, her responsibilities forgotten. Breath caught in her throat. Skittish butterflies released in her belly. The words echoed in her mind, making sense yet none at the same time.

The phone slipped from her shoulder, startling her to reality, but she managed to snatch it midair from reflex. She squeezed her eyes shut to focus, swallowed, and held the phone to her right ear. _Calm_ _down_ , she told herself though her pulse roared. Surely she heard wrong. “What?”

Oohing and coos and kissy sounds assaulted her ear, forcing her eyes open. Roy was telling the girls to leave him alone. Madame Christmas wasn’t having any of their ridiculousness, and the noise coming through the receiver sounded like some sort of scuffle was happening. A door slammed.

“Riza? You still there?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Now she knew how Elizabeth felt. “Yes!”

It was really quiet, save for their breathing. He was probably in the supply closet. “ _And_ …?”

 _And, what? Yes_ , she liked him. _Yes_ , she had a crush on him, but they were _friends_ , damn it. “And,” Riza replied slowly, “you’re an idiot.”

“Huh?” Roy deadpanned.

She took a deep breath. That did little to ease her nerves. “You-you just can’t go around saying ‘I love you’ like that, Roy! We’re _friends_ – and friends don’t – _What the hell is matter with you_?!”

He inhaled and exhaled, “What? Wait, I’m confused.”

“ _You’re_ confused? _I’m_ confused.” She turned to the cabinet door and pressed her forehead against it, groaning. “People already tease us because they _think_ we’re dating, so –”

“But we _are_ dating,” Roy interrupted.

There it was – that feeling again. The same one when he said “I love you.” Her head was spinning. “What? No. _No_ , we’re not.”

“ _Yes_ , we are,” he reassured, though his tone hinted at doubt.

Riza repositioned herself to where she was pressing her back against the cabinet; her legs sprawled in front of her. “ _Since when_?!”

“About three months ago!” he mumbled, probably because he was running his hand down his face. It was one of his habits. “Remember, we were standing under that big oak tree at the end of your street, and I said, ‘Will you go out with me?’ Does _that_ ring any bells for you?”

She recalled it, sure. It was just like any other day. Or at least she _thought_ so. “I thought you were asking me to go to the store with you.”

“I was _blushing_. Why would I blush just to ask to go to the store with me?”

“ _I don’t know_ \- because that’s where we went immediately afterwards?” Defensively adding, “And I thought you were getting sick!” A thought struck her. “Wait, you like me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he drug out. “The flirting in this conversation alone should give that away, and –”

“We were flirting?”

Roy groaned, “Fluorine-uranium-carbon-potassium, Riza, you’re killing me!”

“Don’t use that kind of language with me,” she scolded, flustered.

“Sorry.”

They sat in silence to the point where Elizabeth came to check on Riza, sitting next to her, but not touching her. Riza gently, slowly, reached and petted the dog’s back, surprised that she didn’t bolt; even more shocked when she laid her head on Riza’s ankle. She could’ve cried right then.

But all thoughts of happy tears where chased away when Riza faintly heard, “Oh my God, that was so _painfully awkward_ ,” by one of the girls.

“Go away, you nosey vultures!”

“ _Oh_ , we made him angry!” the girls giggled.

Oddly enough, Riza found herself snickering, too, and Roy joined in; both laughing until their sides ached and were breathless. The dog blinked at Riza as if she had lost her mind. Maybe she had after the emotional whirlwind.

Of course, Roy was at fault for that, being so vague and not really acting like a boyfriend. Or at least what Riza _thought_ a boyfriend should act like. She didn’t know because she’d never had one before – as if her father would ever allow that…which would explain Roy’s behavior.

Three months, though, Roy. _Three. Months_. Sure, he had been acting a little strange, but nothing too severe to note. Neither way, teenage girl or not, he knew she was dense to these types of things. He should’ve said it clearly.

“So…do you –?” interrupting her internal rant. Roy cleared his throat, his voice stern and sincere, “Riza Hawkeye, will you please be my girlfriend?”

No doubts entered her mind as she answered firmly, “Yes, of course, you pyro jerk.”

“Really?!” surprise and relief lacing the word.

“ _AW_!” burst through the phone as the hostesses oohed in loud, high-pitch voices. Fumbling of the phone and protests came from Roy then, and Riza assumed they’d gotten the supply closet’s door open and were descending on her… _boyfriend_. The term was so foreign to her; she didn’t feel like she had the right to use it. “Our little boy is growing up!” Kissing noises, more protests. “So cute – so handsome!”

“Get off me!” growled Roy. “I’m not – I’m trying to –”

Riza glanced at Elizabeth, who gently thumped her tail against the floor. “ _Hell-o_ …?”

The connection ended.

**Author's Note:**

> Riza totally washed her hands after this, I swear.  
> Okay, true story. My sister's first real long-term boyfriend said "I love you" over the phone when she was cleaning up dog pee from the living room carpet, as TMI as that is. And never told him that detail. She said it sorta ruined the moment - ya know, her hand in a puddle of piss, but she said "I love you, too" anyway. *shrugs* Teenagers....


End file.
